Brother Quest: Scenic Routes
by Laughter's Tears
Summary: One-shots, drabbles, and deleted scenes for my on-going story The Brother Quest. These are the tales that wouldn't fit into the story proper, but are still worth the telling. Both this and The Brother Quest are AU.


Hello there! Welcome, welcome! Those of you who have read my story, The Brother Quest, it's great to see you again. To those of you who haven't, you should probably go read that first. This will make little to no sense otherwise and I'm not offering up many explanations in here as to what's going on. (And if you hate spoilers, this is a horrible place to be if you haven't read the original fic yet).

Now, down to business. This chapter is the one I've chosen to start with because it was originally going to be the first chapter, the prologue. When I started posting, I decided against using this chapter not because it's a bad chapter (it's actually one of my favorite things I've written for this AU), but because it didn't fit the direction I'd decided to go. Well, that's enough yammering from me.

Roll fic!

* * *

For once, he was ready. The bags of grain had been propped up just inside the door for days. Time had not beaten him this year as it had in the past. He knew what it was like to beg for another day. He knew what it was like to have things that could not be spared taken. But this year he was not a failure. This year Splinter would laugh in the face of Timing as his taxes were paid on time.

When the knock came he showed the showed the tax collectors the bags of grain he had set aside and then took them to the barn where he had stored the rest. After a few moments of examination, they agreed that it was enough to satisfy the taxes and Splinter picked up the bags to load them into their cart. His mind was hardly on the task at hand. He was thinking about whether or not he would have enough grain to sell for a profit or whether it was merely enough to get him through eating and trading until the next harvest. His mind was so preoccupied that he scarcely noticed the small whimper coming from cart.

Then he heard a frightened little voice say "Shhh! Shhh. S'okay."

Slowly, carefully, he climbed up onto the cart and looked over the goods piled in it. There, behind a basket of apples were four small turtle children.

The oldest- though he couldn't be more than three- was holding onto one of his smaller siblings, trying to comfort him. Two others appeared to be asleep on a bag of oats. The two who were awake looked up at the large rat warily and fearfully. The small one tried to bury himself in his brother's arms as the brother attempted to back away.

"It is all right little ones. I will not hurt you. Where are your parents?" Splinter asked quietly so as not to wake the sleepers. The young one simply sucked his thumb and the oldest one looked at him confusedly.

"Your mommy? Your daddy? Where are they?" Splinter asked, hoping the simpler words would be more recognizable to the child.

Understanding dawned on the child's face, "Mommy go nigh' nigh'. Meanies take us on twip. Who's you? Is you goin' on twip too?"

In spite of himself he smiled at the inquisitive expression fixed upon him, "My name is Splinter. What is yours?" he answered.

"Splin-ner?... Okay. I's Lee-nardo. Here's Don-tello. Dat's Raphy-el an Mikey-ang'lo." The boy introduced himself and his brothers. The poor children. If he was correct about the 'trip' they were taking, their lives for the near future were not intended to be happy ones. But there was little he could do for them beyond the few kind words he'd given.  
Or was there?

When the tax wagon rolled away, Splinter wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. It had cost him nearly half of the gold he had stored beneath the loose hearth stone.

'But it was the right thing to do.' He thought.

He looked down at the little turtle child in his arms and the others gathered around his ankles. Michelangelo beamed up at him and then proceeded to wipe a booger on his fur.

* * *

Once inside the little hut, Splinter was made painfully aware of how much of a bachelor he was. There was one bed. A high table. Two chairs. Two stools. And the fireplace; the dangerous, dangerous, fireplace which had no grate of any sort.

In the end he wound up simply setting them on the bed while he made a simple porridge to feed them. It was up high enough that they would have a difficult time climbing off of it. Hopefully, that would keep them out from underfoot. He focused on making the porridge, keeping one ear turned toward the bed. Maybe once they were occupied on the food he could focus on finding some way to block the fireplace in order to keep the-

his thoughts were interrupted as he became aware of whispering from the children's general vicinity. He had been a small child once, a very long time ago; whispering was usually not a good thing for any adult who happened to be near.

"Splin-ner?" A little voice called from the bed. He turned his head to look.

"Mikey made oopsie." Leonardo announced.

'What?' he thought, 'What does that mean?' he was about to ask when Raphael elaborated by scooting away from his brother while holding his nose.

"Steenky Mike!" he complained loudly. 'Steenky Mike' just babbled and grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself.

Splinter closed his eyes and prayed for patience.

* * *

I had so much fun writing the turtle tots. But once I decided to lean a bit more towards the suspenseful side with the story, this prologue just didn't fit anymore. But I still love it anyways! :D


End file.
